Cracks and crevasses a f.., p.1
Cracks and Crevasses: A Fractured Everest Story, page 1
Cracks and Crevasses
A Fractured Everest Story
D.H. Dunn
Copyright 2018 by D.H. Dunn
www.dhdunn.com
Edited by Mia Kleve
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Cover Art by Holly Heisey
www.hollyheiseydesign.com
Created with Vellum
Contents
Cracks and Crevasses
FRACTURED EVEREST by D.H. DUNN
June 4, 1951
Khumbu Valley, Nepal
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“You are too smart to be in this situation.”
Nima heard her own voice, but the words were her mother’s. Words she had heard a hundred times. Words caught by the cold Himalayan winds and swept away, leaving no trace. As vanished as Nima herself would become if she did not find her way back to shelter.
She might have hated Ama’s words, but it was hard to argue with her mother’s ghost now. Nima had let her good intentions and curiosity lead her out into a dangerous situation.
Again, Ama’s voice in her head quickly added.
She felt like a shamed child, rather than a woman of twenty with the hope of her family riding on her shoulders.
This day had not gone according to plan, but she should have known better than to have only one plan. Things changed quickly here in the shadow of great Chomolungma, Mount Everest to the Western climbers. Though she had only come south to the Khumbu valley a few months ago, she had been in the region long enough to know that.
Yet she had told no one back in Gorak Shep of her leaving, not even her younger brother, Pasang. She had taken little, just her brother's pack, which frustratingly only contained his ice axe and a collection of woolen socks.
Nima was certain if she had told anyone, they would have laughed at her. “I’m chasing a Yeti” was not a statement likely to be taken seriously, even by her fellow Sherpa. Six Sherpa had gone missing over the past two months, yet no one but Nima suspected the creature of myth might be responsible.
Few of her fellow Sherpa seemed to know the stories of the Yeti as well as she did. Her grandfather had enchanted her with them as a little girl. Certainly no one else had seen the colored flashes of light Nima had. Sparks of magic out in the snow, calling her to investigate.
In the dawn sun, as she had grabbed her brother’s climbing pack and snuck out of the tent they shared, it had seemed like a good idea to search the Khumbu Icefall where she had seen the magical lights before. Even more than a good idea, it had seemed like an adventure.
Now she was cold and alone with the sun starting to set behind the great peaks all around her, and things had definitely not gone according to plan. Her adventure was turning dark along with the sky, her mother’s wisdom rising with the setting of her grandfather’s tales.
Nima knew she should turn back. She should have turned back hours ago. Yet she continued to place one boot after the other, moving steadily away from any direction that might offer safety, toward the most dangerous place in the valley: the Khumbu Icefall. A nightmare of glaciated ice sitting at the foot of Mount Everest and concealing numerous crevasses and dangers, it should have been the last place Nima would be headed.
In the lengthening shadows ahead of the Khumbu Icefall, she finally saw what had brought her so far away from safety and common sense. It was just a flicker, but it was clear and real. A dancing display of color, a rainbow of lightning on the snow surrounding a large moving shape. A shape too tall to be man, yet with arms and legs and a lumbering gait.
The Yeti.
Nima broke into a run, the cold sending her breath back at her in clouds, obscuring her vision. The snow crackled and crunched under her feet. She could just make out the form of her prey in the blowing snow ahead, and then it was gone. Vanished in the same flicker of colors and sparks that had announced its arrival.
In its place came a cry. A lone sound of desperation that wailed across the barren hills and frozen ground leading up to the Khumbu.
Nima followed the sound until her eyes fell on a deep, dark gouge in the ice. Hundreds of meters long, the crevasse wove like a snake through the landscape, cutting a deadly wound in the snow.
She crept toward the crack in the Khumbu, her nerves calling out to her with each step.
The crevasse was deep in shadow and Nima kept an eye on the white powder around each of her boots as she inched forward. If the crack was deeper than it appeared, if the surface underneath her feet were to open up, she’d only have a heartbeat to react.
Nearing the edge, she dropped to her knees as she heard the sound again. No Yeti, she was certain this grunt was from a man. She lay on her belly and felt the cold seep through her jacket as she used her feet to push forward, moving her the remaining distance to the threshold. She peered into the darkness, still half-expecting the massive form of the Yeti to pounce out of the shadows at her.
For a moment, she saw only ice and mist and blowing snow whistling through the long deep gouge in the glacier.
Then she saw the man.
He was head-down, hanging from an icy outcropping at least ten meters below her with nothing but the black depths of the crevasse underneath him. She couldn’t make out any markings on his deep green jacket, but the torn material was higher quality than she was used to seeing. The brown hair that leaked out of his blue knit cap identified him to Nima as a westerner, though why a man from the West would be alone in the Khumbu was beyond her.
“Hello!” She called down to him, her word bouncing around the icy depths as they swallowed up the sound of her cry. “Hello” had been one of the first English words her grandfather had taught her, and Nima always thought it had a fun, musical feel to it.
The man moved at the sound of her voice; a shudder running through his arm. She watched his other arm grab hold of the outcropping as he turned his head toward her. She could see blood smeared across his tanned face, the hints of a beard just starting to form around his gritted teeth. He stared up at her through his goggles, the left lens shattered.
He opened his mouth and a weak and formless sound came out. He looked at Nima, clearly not sure he believed what he was seeing.
“Hello!” She called out to him again. “I will come down. To get you!”
She would? Nima was not sure why she had said that to the man. She supposed she just wanted to offer him hope. The idea that she might climb down into the crevasse was ridiculous.
Wasn’t it?
The man shook his head at her, his jaw set.
“No!” he yelled back. “It’s too hard. Leave me!”
English, a stroke of luck. Had he been French or Swiss she would have had no idea what to say.
Leaving the man to die wasn’t an option Nima was considering, but she could see the challenge of climbing down to him. She wished her brother’s pack contained rope along with the ice axe. Better yet, she wished Pasang were here himself. Her younger brother was bigger and stronger than her. Even if she had a rope it was unlikely she’d be able to pull the man up.
She cast a quick glance over her shoulder to check the position of the sun. The pale disk behind the clouds was already sinking beneath the last points of the rocky peaks around her. There was enough light in the dusk to see, but darkness would be here soon.
As she turned her head back to the crevasse, Nima saw the sparks of color out of the corner of her eye. She whipped her head around, but they were gone again. Now there was only the blowing snow ripping across the plains, no signs of life save Nima and the man below her.
“I am coming,” she called down. “Just hang on.” The man shook his head again, but made no other protest. Sliding one leg over the side of the crevasse, she kicked at the surface below with her boot.
The ice was soft enough to give her a foothold but seemed stable enough to hold her. It would be hard to climb, but with Pasang’s ice ax it might not be impossible. If she could reach this man, maybe she could use his rope and climb back up.
It was that or leave him. If she returned to Gorak Shep for help he would surely be dead by the time she returned. Gripping the surface with her glove she said a silent prayer to the gods to keep her safe.
“My name...” she called down, kicking into the ice again. She had to keep him talking. “My name is Nima! What is yours?”
The howl of the wind through the chasm was the only response. She jammed Pasang’s ice axe into the side of the crevasse, chips of cold, frozen water spraying into her face. She bent one knee and lowered herself further. The snowy hills of the valley crossed her vision one last time as she descended fully into the depths.
She was about to repeat her question when the weak reply came.
“Drew,” the voice below her said. He was a bit more to her left than she had thought, so she shifted to compensate. “Drew Adley.”
A name was something. He was focusing, listening. She grasped the ice with her torn gloves, wishing again she had brought Pasang along.
“Why are you here, Drew Adley?” She lowered herself another step, her boot slipping for a moment before she found a spot soft enough to kick into. “Are you with the British?”
She and Pasang had run into a few climbers from England during the summer. There were rumors of an another attempt to summit Everest coming, though she had heard conflicting stories of what country would be leading the expedition.
“No,” he replied. His voice was a bit closer now, a bit stronger. His accent was
Nima gritted her teeth, trying not to think about the drop below. There had been six missing Sherpa this summer, none of them seen or heard from again. All of them scouting near the Khumbu.
They might be below her right now, their corpses slowly being ground beneath the onslaught of the glacier.
“My client, I mean,” Drew’s voice continued. His answer had been quick, sounding to Nima like the man wanted to correct something. There was more, her instincts told her. “My client wants me to find her father.”
She tested another handhold with her left hand, the ice crumbling away in her glove. She froze, feeling her body start to sway towards the opening below her.
She tried to her left with her boot, kicking slightly while clinging to her axe with her right hand. Releasing a breath through clenched teeth, Nima kicked into the ice once more.
There, she thought as her heart started beating again. That felt solid.
Nima lowered herself further, counting her steps to steady her nerves.
“You’re a Sherpa? Your English is very good,” Drew rasped. His voice was close now; right under her. She was almost to him. The job was halfway done and there was a slight hint of light still coming from above her.
With any luck, she might be able to reach the man before darkness fell after all.
“Taught to me by my grandfather,” she replied, jamming the axe in where it stuck solidly. “He traveled the world and—”
There was a rustling sound and she felt a sharp pain as something small and hard impacted with her head. Nima looked up to see ice raining upon her. Through the cascade she could see a shape, colored flashes bursting like silent fireworks. She gripped the handle of the axe tightly as the avalanche of debris continued.
Nima cried out as a chunk bounced off her shoulder. She heard Drew’s cry as he too was pelted by the debris. There was a quick glimpse of white fur and another flash of color, purple this time. Then the shape was gone, replaced by a rotating shard of ice the size of Nima’s leg.
It slammed into her right arm before she could react. The ax’s wooden handle slipped from her hand, Pasang’s climbing tool snapping with the bit still wedged into the crevasse wall as she fell away from it.
Her back slammed into Drew as she tumbled, hearing his grunt of pain as she knocked the man off the precipice to which he clung. Nima twisted end over end while the darkness grew around her, the icy sides of the Khumbu a blur.
She came to a sudden stop, the world so dark she was unsure if her eyes were open. She lay on something cold and hard, rocks pushing at her through her jacket. Her body hurt; she could feel the cuts and scrapes all over herself. Nima's head and ears were ringing and she found it hard to keep her teeth from rattling.
That she was alive at all was shocking. The crevasse must have been less deep than she had feared, though likely still too far to escape.
There was a flash of light, bright and yellow. Rather than a magical trail of colors, like she had seen before, this came from the man and the battery powered torch he held in one shaking hand.
“Are you all right?” There was further strain in the man’s voice. Whatever injuries he had sustained in his initial fall into the crevasse, he was worse now. Yet he was still asking how she was.
“I am fine,” Nima said, putting both her hands onto the floor of the crevasse and pushed herself upright. “Fine” was a relative term, as she winced with each movement. Everything ached, but everything worked.
She judged the portion of the crevasse they had fallen into was no wider than her outstretched arms. Cramped, yet far broader than she had feared. They were lucky.
“You are not fine,” Nima said as she turned toward Drew. Looking closer at the American in the low light of his torch, she judged him to be slightly older than her, yet still younger than most of the Western climbers she had seen. He gave her a small smile.
“I could be worse,” he said. “My leg took the brunt of the fall.”
Nima could see the dark stains of blood around the man's left knee and shin. He was moving the leg, testing it as she peered at the injury.
"I don't think it's broken," he said. Nima nodded, though she was not sure. She had never seen a broken bone up close, and it was hard to see much in the dim light of the American's torch. Still, she was sure it would be better to stabilize the leg so the man could walk on it.
She scuttled over and grabbed the broken end of Pasang's ice axe, keeping the jagged edge pointed to the ground. Pulling her brother's pack off her back, she pulled out a few of the wool socks.
She then returned to Drew, kneeling next to him as he lay slumped against the side of the icy cavern. She placed the handle of the axe alongside his leg and began to tie Pasang's socks together.
The American let out a deep sigh.
“Look, that's a waste of—”
He was going to try and talk her into leaving him. It was as obvious as the pain he was hiding from his injury.
“So, why are you here?” she interrupted, while wrapping the first line of connected socks around his shin. "The truth, I mean. Tell me why you are really here."
Drew grunted again as she wrapped another sock above his knee. She pulled tighter and looked up, the man's face a storm of its own in the dim light.
“I told you before I—” he stopped, looking at her. A faint smile crossed his face, a chuckle escaping his clenched teeth. “You know... I told you earlier. I guess you also can tell there’s more. Funny, I’m usually a better liar.”
“Not your fault,” Nima said, finishing the knot below his knee. “I’ve been lied to a lot. I am good at seeing it. You do not have to tell me, though.”
She released his leg, and Drew slid further back against the wall of the crevasse. He shook his head, another laugh escaping in a cloud of vapor. Nima watched the mist float up toward the surface, wishing they could rise out as easily.
“No, you risked your life to come down here. I guess it won’t matter if you think I’m crazy.”
“I already think you are crazy, Drew Adley. To be out in the Khumbu valley alone…”
Nima expected him to point out it was just as crazy that she was out here alone, but he didn't mention her folly. His eyes lost a bit of their focus, and he gazed up past her and into the dark night far above them.
“I wasn’t lying before. I am out here looking for my client’s father, just as I said. But I’m also looking for someone else. Someone who couldn’t be here, and yet she has led me here... Somehow.”
His eyes flicked back to her and Nima wondered what reaction he was fearful of. The mountains all around them were the homes of gods, Nima believed this as firmly as her grandfather had. They could have led this man here, right to this very crevasse to meet her, if they wished it.
“Magic?” She whispered. Drew held her gaze for a moment and Nima was happy to see the relief on his face. She knew what it felt like to not be believed, to be scoffed at. Ama had been good at that.
“Yeah, something like that," he said. "You know, your face isn’t making the expressions I thought it would.”
Nima grinned. It was good to have a happy feeling in her heart, even if the dark and the cold surrounded them. Pasang always laughed at her when she spoke of magic, just as everyone else she met.
Everyone, until now.
“My grandfather used to say that magic was real, but people who do not believe become blind; you need open eyes to see.”
“That’s pretty great,” Drew said with a laugh. “I think I’d like your grandfather.”
Nima took a quick glance at the sky above them. Stars now shone back through the narrow crack in the ice above. A drum was beating inside her. They needed to move; the longer they stayed, the more danger they were in.
Yet the man needed his rest, and there was more. She wanted to hear the rest of his story. This story of magic and strange far off places.
“So who was she, this woman?”
“I met her a year ago, in Kathmandu. I was at a low point, lower than this if you can imagine. The war… it went bad for me. Really bad. Nothing made sense anymore."
